Freshman Just Wanted Dinner — Until Three Bullies Made a Mistake That Cost Them Everything
Chapter 5
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Claire turned a page in her notebook."Hey," Marcus said, louder now.Claire looked up. Marcus was leaning forward with both elbows on his own table, looking at her with the expression of someone who thinks they are being charming."Are you at Hartwell?""Yes," Claire said."What year?""Freshman.""Huh." He nodded, like she had confirmed a suspicion. "You on scholarship?"Claire held his gaze for one full second. "Is there something I can help you with?" she said. Not rude, not flustered, just a question.Marcus leaned back and grinned at Tyler. "She's got that scholarship confidence," he said.Tyler smiled.The food came. Dot set down the plates without ceremony and moved on. Claire noticed that Dot did not linger near the table the way she had when Claire ordered; Dot moved efficiently, the way experienced people move when they want to be elsewhere.The three men ate. For a while, it was just noise: conversation between them about someone named Jake, and a party at the Weston house, and whether the team was going to make the playoffs, and whether some professor was going to curve the midterm. Normal college conversation. Claire let herself half-listen and mostly ignore it. She ate her sandwich, she drank her coffee, she reviewed her notes.And then Tyler reached over.It was a smooth motion, practiced almost—the way a person reaches for something when they want it to look accidental. His elbow caught the edge of Claire's water glass. The glass tipped. The water poured across the table and spread directly onto Claire's open notebook—the notebook she'd been carrying since the first week of the semester, the one that had her class notes and her outlines and her midterm study guides written in her own careful handwriting. Twelve weeks of work, soaked in ice water in approximately four seconds.Claire pushed back from the table. She stood up fast. She looked at the notebook; the ink was already running. She did not make a sound.Tyler looked at the spilled water with an expression of mild surprise. "Oh," he said. "Sorry about that." He did not sound sorry.Brandon had stopped chewing. Marcus had his phone out and was already taking a photo."Don't," Claire said. She said it quietly. She looked directly at Marcus.Marcus lowered the phone about two inches, then raised it again and took the photo. "It's a diner," he said. "Public place. Relax." He typed something.Claire picked up her notebook carefully. The ink was bleeding through the pages. She set it aside. She reached for the napkin dispenser and started trying to blot the water off the table. She did not look at the three of them; she focused on what she could control.